


we walk amongst giants

by distracted_dragon



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Disabled Essek Thelyss, Everyone Is Alive, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, jaeger engineering prodigy essek, pilot caleb, there are emotions and also huge robots punching things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distracted_dragon/pseuds/distracted_dragon
Summary: Caleb Widogast hasn't set foot in a shatterdome in five years. An impromptu visit sends him stumbling back into the world of Jaegers and kaiju, where he meets new friends and confronts old fears. He and his new co-pilot, an engineering prodigy, must rise to fight the monsters before them. Together, they will either stop the kaiju incursions or die trying.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 63
Kudos: 129





	1. it came from the sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU is set in Wildemount and has modern technology, but no magic. I've wanted to write a CR pacific rim AU for several months and I'm very excited to share it with everyone. 
> 
> CW: none for this chapter.  
> In general, this fic has the same level of violence and whatnot as in canon. If any potentially hazardous topics come up, I'll include them in a content warning.

The lab’s fluorescent lights buzz rather loudly and occasionally flicker nauseatingly, but Caleb can’t quite bring himself to complain enough to get them fixed. He’s spent the better part of four years accruing goodwill by doing research and keeping his head down. Caleb isn’t too keen on wasting that goodwill on something as trivial as lights.

Caleb sighs and pushes his chair back from his work station. The slide of kaiju cells under the microscope nearly resembles the slick rainbow sheen of an oil spill. He picks it up and carefully places it amongst the smattering of samples in the specimen fridge.

With a somewhat concerning creak, he shuts the fridge’s shaky door. Caleb frowns at the noise-- if the fridge breaks, they’ll lose what few kaiju samples they have. Maruo never tells him where their samples come from, but Caleb sincerely doubts that they were obtained legally.

He circles around the lab, checking that the spectrometer is turned off and he didn’t mistakenly leave any kaiju samples out. Satisfied, Caleb grabs his coat and his ring of keys on their frayed lanyard before heading out.

The door closes with a click behind him. Caleb’s footsteps echo on the cracked linoleum tiles as he traverses the now-familiar web of hallways. Maruo’s office door is slightly ajar and Caleb knocks lightly on it, hovering in the doorway.

“Come in, come in!” Maruo beckons him in with one long-nailed hand and waves at the seat in front of her. “Sit down. What brings you here?” She grins, exposing rows of sharp goblin teeth.

Caleb sits down in the rickety chair that sits across from Maruo’s desk. As always, nondescript manila folders are scattered across her desk. A few photographs of kaiju parts jut from one folder while another has what looks like some sort of jaeger schematic. Several different bottles of rather pungent hair oil rest atop the folder. Maruo catches his eye and slides what looks like a hair oil recipe further into the folder, but otherwise doesn’t move to hide the rest of its contents.

“I was just heading out, actually, but I wanted to let you know that the lab fridge’s door is acting up again.”

“Again? I’ll look into it.” Maruo closes something on her computer before she turns to fully face Caleb. She steeples her fingers together with an unsettling grin that Caleb has seen her turn on particularly nosy customers. “Listen, Caleb, you’re a good scientist. I only employ the highest quality people here, of course, and you’re a veritable expert in kaiju biology.” She drags the word _expert_ out.

Caleb picks at the sleeve of his coat. “Thank you, Maruo. You know that I’m very happy to work for you here.”

“I hired you because you seemed to understand the goals of our organization.” Eyes glinting, Maruo leans towards Caleb. “We can only do high-quality work, which you clearly like doing, if we stay under the radar.”

Caleb shifts in his seat, but otherwise stays quiet. His eyes flit to a spot on the wall that desperately needs an extra coat of paint before he forces himself to look back at Maruo. “Of course. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Then why did one of Lady Olios’s people drop by earlier today to ask me questions about you?”

Dread grips his heart with cold fingers. “What?”

“You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?” Maruo raises an eyebrow and Caleb shakes his head. “Well, I can’t run a business if we have the Dynasty sniffing around. You understand the importance of keeping things discreet. I’ve been willing to overlook your… circumstances, but if you jeopardize anything—”

“No, no, of course I understand,” Caleb interjects, nodding eagerly. “I can see the position that you’re in and I have no desire to endanger your business. Truly, I was and still am very grateful to be able to continue my research here. I know that you took a chance on me and I really, really don’t want to jeopardize what you’re doing here.”

The chair creaks as Maruo leans back, eyes fixed on Caleb. “I’m glad that we’re on the same page.” A snake oil grin spreads across her face.

He resists the urge to fidget. “As am I.”

“Make sure that nobody else comes to sniff around my business, Caleb.”

“I’ll try my best.” Not that there’s much that he can do.

Her eyes don’t leave his face. “Please do.”

“I’ll make sure to keep you in the loop.” Caleb stands up and straightens his coat as Maruo continues to watch him.

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turns back to her computer, a clear dismissal.

“See you then.” Caleb awkwardly raises a hand before ducking out of the office.

Heart pounding, Caleb flips up his hood without even thinking about it and lets his feet carry him through the familiar path outside. He barely pauses to revel in the smell of air that isn’t tinged by the metallic, slightly citrusy tang of kaiju blood. Asarius isn’t the prettiest city, but at least it smells better than kaiju guts.

He keeps his head down and holds his panic at bay as he picks his way through a collection of side streets and back alleys. Finally, he reaches his crumbling apartment building. Nobody gives him a second glance as he enters and climbs the dingy stairs until, at last, he’s inside his shitty apartment and can begin to hyperventilate.

The Dynasty’s people found him. Fuck.

Frumpkin winds around his shins as Caleb sinks down against the closed door, holding his head in his hands. He supposes that it’s better to be found by the Dynasty than the Empire, but Caleb would rather not be found at all. All they’re going to want to do is shove him into another jaeger, and then--

Caleb forces himself to slow his breathing as Frumpkin meows and headbutts his hand. At least the Empire hasn’t found him yet, but it’s not exactly heartening. The Dynasty will likely ship him over to the Empire and shove him into a Jaeger.

Frumpkin settles in Caleb’s lap as he presses his palms into his eyes. He can’t go back.

For a while, Caleb lets himself sit there and listen to the comforting rumble of Frumpkin’s purrs. By the time that he’s calmed himself down, his stomach is rumbling. Frumpkin, the wonderful cat that he is, waits for Caleb to stand up before he runs to his food bowl.

Caleb obligingly scoops a heap of kibble into Frumpkin’s bowl. “Ah, so you stayed with me because you were hungry, hmm?”

Frumpkin headbutts his hand before digging in. With a smile, Caleb scritches behind Frumpkin’s ears before standing back up.

“What are we going to do about this mess, Frumpkin? You cannot help, you’re just a cat.” He leans against his kitchen counter and picks at its crumbling corner. “I guess I’ll just have to figure out something, hmm?”

\---

The next morning, thick raindrops pelt the city as Caleb heads to the lab. As always, he pulls the hood of his coat up, but it doesn’t do much to stop the rain from soaking into his clothes.

By the time that Caleb arrives at the rather nondescript building, he’s thoroughly drenched. His hair, darkened to a dark copper by the water, sticks to his face. Caleb raises a hand to push his hair out of his face when he makes eye contact with one of the individuals standing rather conspicuously outside the building.

Guards. He would know the uniform of the Pan Wildemount Defense Corps anywhere. Caleb’s heart pounds and he forces himself to breathe, to think. There aren’t any markers on the uniforms to distinguish which country the guards are from-- the Cobalt Soul insisted that it would reinforce old divisions, which is probably true. However, Caleb doubts that the Empire would order an orc, a tiefling, and two gnolls to guard a building, especially when it contains, well, _him_.

Caleb freezes in place for a moment. When the guards don’t immediately step forward to apprehend him, Caleb takes a deep breath and continues walking. Their eyes bore into his back until he opens the double doors and slips inside.

More PWDC soldiers mill about in the lobby. Caleb keeps his head down and internally cringes at the wet footprints that he’s leaving on the linoleum. Nobody moves to stop him, but he’s once again left with the uncomfortable sensation of being watched as he follows the familiar route to his lab.

Two more soldiers wait outside the door to the lab. Caleb hesitates for a moment, eyes flickering over their faces. They may not know who he is, but he supposes that even if they don’t recognize him, whoever must be waiting for him inside the lab will.

He pulls his hood off and shuffles his feet when the guards don’t immediately react. “Um, hi, could you please let me in? I work here.”

“Let him in,” a muffled voice calls from inside.

One of the soldiers opens the door. Caleb pushes his wet hair out of his face, silently lamenting the water still dripping from his coat, before he walks in.

He finds three figures standing in the lab. Maruo is closest to the door, hands clasped anxiously as she stares at the two much taller individuals. One of them is a drow woman with long white hair who is wearing a rather expensive-looking silk dress. The other is a dark-skinned elf whose sash bears the distinctive blue of the Cobalt Soul.

Caleb fights the instinct to straighten his back and snap a salute at the two strangers. Instead, he hunches his shoulders and stares at them through his bangs. “Ah, hello. What are you doing in my lab?”

The drow woman tilts her head, regarding him with purple eyes. “A better question would be, what are you doing in this lab?”

Maruo interrupts before Caleb can say anything too incriminating. “Caleb, this is Expositor Dairon of the Cobalt Soul and Lady Zethris Olios of the Kryn Dynasty.” Her shark-like grin says that she would very much like to eat Caleb alive for bringing them into her building.

Caleb swallows and stuffs his hands into his coat’s pockets. “It is good to meet you. Can we help you with something?”

Expositor Dairon narrows their eyes at Caleb, but they remain silent. Instead, Lady Olios turns to Maruo and smiles politely. “Would you mind giving us some privacy?”

Glad for the opportunity to leave, Maruo nods eagerly. “Of course, of course. I’ll give you some space. Have fun, Caleb.” She casts one last look at him before she quickly scuttles out of the room.

Caleb tries to not feel too offended by Maruo’s hasty exit. After all, she has been rather kind to him in employing someone with an obviously fabricated background. (Part of him suspects that she knows who he is, since she seems to have a knack for knowing these sorts of things. He doubts that she’ll tell him now, what with an Expositor and Lady Olios standing in his lab.) A visit from such a high-ranking Dynasty official likely means that Maruo’s business-- or at least the parts that illegally deal with Kaiju parts-- will be shut down.

He turns back to the two figures and waits expectantly for them to speak, careful to maintain a blank look on his face.

Lady Olios waits for the sound of Maruo’s footsteps to fade before she speaks. Her vibrant violet eyes settle on Caleb’s face, studying him. “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Ranger. It’s not every day that one meets a pilot from the Empire, especially one of your caliber.”

Caleb winces. “I’m no longer a pilot and I don’t work for the Empire,” he replies quickly. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do you have a reason for coming here? I have some important research that I’d like to get back to.”

Expositor Dairon crosses their arms and finally speaks. “We’re here for a discussion. The world as we know it is in danger and the Pan Wildemount Defense Corps is in need of pilots such as yourself.”

His throat feels dry. “I’m helping from the sidelines. I don’t need to be in the thick of the fighting to be effective.” And he especially doesn’t want to be anywhere near Trent Ikithon, but he doesn’t voice that particular thought.

“Perhaps, but we need more pilots. You’ve been hiding out in this… facility,” Lady Olios glances pointedly at the cracked flooring and the faulty fluorescent lighting, “when we have a Jaeger waiting for you.”

Goosebumps crawl up his arms from a combination of his cold, wet clothes and the thought of a Jaeger lurking somewhere in anticipation of his arrival. It’s too much. He doesn’t deserve this.

Maybe the Dynasty needs more pilots and maybe they think that he would do a good job. Maybe he even will do well as a pilot, but that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t deserve this chance. He has his shitty lab, his shitty coat, and his shitty apartment, but he barely even deserves that. Still, this doesn’t seem like an opportunity that they’ll let him turn down.

Something strikes him and he frowns at both of them. “What do you mean by _we_?”

A faint smile spreads across Lady Olios’s face. “The Kryn Dynasty, of course. Your Jaeger is in the Rosohna shatterdome.”

“Since you’re in Xhorhas, you’re technically under the Dynasty’s jurisdiction. They aren’t under any obligation to send you to the Empire,” Dairon adds.

Caleb blinks, momentarily stunned. Hope rises in his chest-- maybe, just maybe, he won’t have to go back to Trent Ikithon and his mind games. “But I was trained by the Empire. Does that not mean that I…?” He pauses. “Forgive me, I do not mean to imply that I wish to return to the Empire. I’m merely processing all of this.”

Dairon’s eyes bore into him as they regard him coolly. “The Empire has no claim on you here. I’m here to represent the interests of the Cobalt Soul in maintaining neutrality and strengthening the Pan Wildemount Defense Corps. As I see it, it doesn’t appear to be in the best of the PWDC to return you to the Empire.”

It feels uncomfortably like Dairon knows something about the circumstances surrounding Caleb’s departure from the Empire’s branch of the PWDC. The Cobalt Soul is supposed to manage the Jaeger program and prevent corruption, so maybe they actually do know something. It’s certainly possible that the Cobalt Soul saw through their flimsy excuse about him being “unfit for duty”, which was true, albeit not for the reasons that one may assume.

He nods absently and clenches his fists in his pockets before meeting Dairon’s eyes. “Okay. And do I have a choice in all of this?”

Dairon shrugs. “You have as much of a choice as any of us do, but we won’t physically force you to do anything. You can either hide in a shitty lab until a kaiju eats you or you can come with us and fight. It’s your choice.”

“That’s not much of a choice.”

They almost laugh, but it’s more like a sharp exhale. “Do any of us really have a choice?”

“I suppose not.” Caleb pauses to think. “Should I gather my things now? I travel pretty light, but I need to go get my cat.”

“We can take care of that for you,” Lady Olios informs him.

“Ah, excellent, thank you.” He nods and drums his fingers against his leg. “And may I ask how public you’d be making my name? I’m sure that you can understand my concerns about broadcasting my location to the Empire.”

“You’ve been going by Caleb Widogast since you left the Empire, correct?” Lady Olios waits for Caleb to nod before she continues, “If you prefer, we can continue to use that name for you. Some individuals in the shatterdome may recognize you from your previous work, but the knowledge will be contained.”

“And you trust the people working in the shatterdome?” He directs this question at Lady Olios, but he keeps an eye on Dairon’s face to watch their reaction.

To their credit, they don’t even blink as Lady Olios responds, “Of course.”

“Okay.” Caleb takes a moment to contemplate his options. It seems unlikely that the Rosohna shatterdome would be worse than his old one in Rexxentrum, especially since Trent Ikithon (presumably) won’t be there. If the Cobalt Soul is getting involved, he doubts that Rosohna will be able to get up to too much mischief.

Besides, if he refuses the Dynasty’s offer, then there’s always the chance that Trent could find him later. The Expositor may claim that the Empire has no legal claim over him here, but that won’t necessarily stop Trent from pulling Caleb into his web again.

When do I start?”

Lady Olios’s smile is brilliant. “Right now. Come, I’ll show you to the helicopter.”

\---

Caleb has only seen pictures of the Rosohna shatterdome online and in a handful of Jaeger program presentations that he was required to attend. The Dynasty is very careful about releasing information to the public or even to the PWDC.

He catches his first in-person glimpse of the Rosohna shatterdome from the window of a Dynasty helicopter. It’s difficult for his human eyes to see it in great detail due to the sphere of artificial darkness that covers the heart of Xhorhas, but he can still see enough of its massive sprawl to be impressed. The Rosohna shatterdome is a great affair of dark metal dotted with glowing yellow lights. Massive, Jaeger-sized doors are carved into each of its sides. When he squints, he can faintly see waves lapping against the bottom of each door.

“I thought that Rosohna was farther from the ocean than this,” Caleb observes, face nearly pressed against the window.

Dairon glances up from their phone. “The shatterdome was built just east of the city so it’s closer to the ocean.”

He nods. “I must have missed it. My night vision isn’t that great.”

“Don’t worry about your vision. Your Jaeger will have night vision software installed.”

“Ah, I see.”

Dairon’s attention shifts back to their phone, which is carefully angled so that Caleb can’t see its screen. They don’t seem particularly interested in continuing the conversation, so Caleb returns his gaze to the window and the shatterdome below.

Soon enough, the helicopter touches down. Various people in PWDC uniforms scurry across the landing pad and swarm over the helicopter like ants as soon as Dairon and Caleb step away from it.

It’s still raining, but Caleb has dried off from his earlier walk to the lab. The rain had washed off any remaining dirt on his clothes, leaving him looking ragged but relatively clean. Dairon beckons him out of the helicopter and into the safety of an umbrella. They peer at the people around them, who appear to mainly be helicopter personnel, and frown.

Someone’s phone rings nearby. Caleb instinctively pats his pockets before remembering that his current cell phone is a clunky burner phone that barely anyone has the number to. Dairon pulls out their phone and checks the caller ID. He barely manages to catch the name _Jester Lavorre_ before Dairon sighs and answers the call.

“Yes?” They ask tiredly, holding the phone a good six inches away from their ear.

A voice that is equal parts enthusiastic and loud crackles from the speaker. “DAIRON! I was going to come meet you once you got here, but I was talking with Caduceus about which of the new recruits could maybe be drift compatible with your new pilot, but then I lost track of time. But then Molly came up to us and told us that you just got in, so now I’m coming to meet you!” The other person sounds slightly out of breath, which is unsurprising given the speed at which she talked.

To their credit, Dairon barely blinks at the spiel. “So you’re on your way, then?”

“Yes! I’m-- oh, I see you! Hang on!”

The call ends and Dairon calmly places their phone in their pocket as a figure runs towards them. As they get closer, he can tell that she’s a blue tiefling wearing a fluffy green dress that is certainly _not_ regulation attire. There’s an adorable hot pink umbrella clutched in her hands. It is absolutely massive; Caleb is impressed that the wind doesn’t blow it away.

The other person-- Jester Lavorre, presumably-- skids to a halt in front of them. “Dairon, it’s so good to see you! And you must be Caleb!” She turns to Caleb and beams at him. “I’m Jester Lavorre and I’m one of the mission controllers! When you fight a kaiju, I’ll be your eyes and ears, so I’m practically inside your head.” She drops her voice and makes what could be loosely interpreted as a scary face before she brightens back up. “I guess that we’d better start getting to know each other, then!”

“Um,” says Caleb, feeling a bit dazed. “It’s nice to meet you, Officer Lavorre.”

“Call me Jester! Everybody does. Now, let’s go meet everyone else! I can show you around the shatterdome and you can see your room and your jaeger and everything!”

Dairon checks their phone again and glances between the two of them. “Since you’ve got everything here managed, I’ve got to go.” Without preamble, they turn and head towards what looks like one of many entrances to the shatterdome.

“BYE, DAIRON!” Jester shouts at Dairon’s retreating back. They ignore her as they continue walking towards the shatterdome. 

She turns back to Caleb and angles her humongous umbrella so it shields him from the onslaught of the rain. “Well, let’s go meet everyone! They’re going to be so excited!”

They both start walking towards a different entrance to the shatterdome as helicopter deck crew rush around them. The yellow lights of the shatterdome reflect off puddles and cut through the darkness like fireflies.

“I can’t believe that we get a new pilot! And especially that it’s you because you’re, like, really cool.” Jester drops her voice. “I know about all of the name stuff and everything, but don’t worry, we all want to keep you safe here.”

Caleb swallows. “How many people know?”

“Here? Most of the higher ups know and the pilots know. I mean, most of us studied your old fights, so it would be hard to keep us in the dark about you. The main thing is making sure that it all stays confined to our shatterdome, but don’t worry! The Cobalt Soul is keeping an eye on things.” She smiles at him again and pats his arm reassuringly.

It’s a bit difficult to keep up with the flood of information, but he nods anyways. “Ah. That’s good to know.”

Jester continues to ramble as she leads him into the burnished metal hallways of the shatterdome. The people they pass nod at Jester, who waves enthusiastically to a couple of them. Some people give Caleb curious looks and he ducks his head self-consciously.

Mercifully, Jester does not insist on introducing him to everyone they pass. Instead, they walk for a few minutes until they stop in front of a set of large double doors. Jester pushes the doors open and Caleb finds himself looking at the Rosohna shatterdome’s combat room. The walls here are a bit less rusty than the walls of Rexxentrum’s combat room, but the dark mats lining the floors and the weapons stacked against the walls are familiar.

Panic bubbles in his gut and Caleb stops momentarily. “Jester, are we doing drift compatibility tests today? I’m a bit out of practice and I’d really, really prefer it if I was able to ease back into things first.”

Jester blinks at him before shaking her head. “Oh, no no! We’re doing drift compatibility tests the day after tomorrow. You’ll have plenty of time to practice, Caleb, don’t worry.”

After a moment of hesitation, he continues into the room with Jester. Inside, he finds a gaggle of people in cadet uniforms circled around several figures. The two figures in the very middle are a lithe human woman with her brown hair tied into a bun and a handsome half-orc man with gray-streaked black hair and a scar across his face. Coincidentally, they both have undercuts.

Next to them, a lanky, pink-haired firbolg lectures the cadets. “--and drift compatibility is about two people finding a balance between themselves. When you’re watching Beau and Fjord, remember to pay attention to their give and take.”

He steps back to stand next to a dark-haired, muscular humanoid woman and a shorter purple tiefling in the most atrociously colorful coat that Caleb has ever seen.

“Remember, don’t kill each other!” The purple tiefling exclaims cheerfully.

The half-orc and human woman-- Beau and Fjord-- exchange glances and grin as they both settle into combat stances. Jester pulls him around the room and over the far wall as the purple tiefling shouts, “Three, two, one, fight!”

Beau is the first to act; she darts forward and unleashes a flurry of blows upon Fjord. Still smiling, Fjord dodges the first attack and parries the others with a twirl of his staff. She draws back and they circle each other for a moment, staring each other down.

They’re far too good to be cadets-- they must be pilots. Caleb racks his brain, searching names to put to their faces. Fjord the half-orc must be Fjord Stone, but wasn’t he stationed in Port Damali?

“That’s Beauregard Lionett and Fjord Stone. They’re the pilots of Chaos Striker.” Jester has to go on tiptoes to whisper to him.

Caleb leans down a little and replies in a hushed voice, “When did Ranger Stone transfer over here?”

“Like, two years ago. It’s a long story.”

Their whispers are broken by another flurry of activity in the center of the room as Beau feints a jab to Fjord’s ribs. Fjord attempts a counterstrike, but she shuts it down with a well-placed block. Their dance continues with a series of short, furious attacks broken up by periods of circling each other.

Beau aims a kick at Fjord’s ribs, but he catches her ankle with one hand. With a push, he throws her to the ground and quickly points his staff at her stomach.

“Fjord, one, Beau, zero!” The purple tiefling exclaims excitedly.

Fjord offers a hand to Beau and when she accepts, he pulls her up from the floor.

“Nice one,” she tells him as she wipes sweat off her forehead with one hand. “But you’d better get ready to taste the mat.”

“I’d rather not,” Fjord replies before launching into another flurry of motion.

Beau lands the next two points when she darts around Fjord and sweeps his feet out from under him, and then when she manages to break through his guard after a swift series of blows. Fjord gets the point after that when he sends Beau’s staff flying out of her hands.

They stand there, panting, as the purple tiefling yells, “Two all! That’s a wrap, everybody!” He claps his hands together and the cadets shift as they emerge from their trance. “Yasha, Cad, can you take it from here?”

“We should be fine,” the tall woman replies before turning to face the cadets, arms crossed. “Now, did everyone notice how Beau and Fjord made sure to--”

Caleb tunes out her lecture as the purple tiefling bounces towards him and Jester.

“Jester, did you bring us a surprise?” He calls, arms spread wide.

“I did! This is Caleb and he’s very sweet, you’re going to love him,” Jester confides with a grin.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Caleb.” The tiefling offers him a hand and they shake hands. “I’m Mollymauk Tealeaf, but my friends call me Molly. I can assure you that we’re all _very_ excited to meet you.”

Molly pointedly glances over his shoulder at where Beau and Fjord are conversing quietly, heads bent together but still definitely shooting glances at him. “Beau! Fjord! Come over here and meet Caleb. He doesn’t bite-- do you bite, Caleb?”

“I don’t bite,” Caleb says.

“Excellent! See, Beau, he’s completely harmless.” Molly smiles at the duo as they approach.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Caleb. We’ve heard good things about you,” Fjord says with a polite dip of his head.

“I don’t know if I’d call him harmless. I mean, have you seen _any_ footage of him fighting?” Beau whispers as she points animatedly at Caleb. “His jaeger was a fucking beast, man.”

“Beau,” Fjord begins, raising an eyebrow at his co-pilot, “Do you remember what we were told about keeping _certain things_ about _certain people_ quiet?”

“I remember! I just, you know, I wanted to come say hi because he’s really badass.” Beau pauses. “Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hi, I’m Beau. It’s good to meet you.” Her voice drops into something that sounds like it’s intended to be more cool. She jerkily extends one arm and shakes his hand once before withdrawing.

Fjord covers his face for a moment, shoulders shaking. It looks like he might be laughing. After a moment, he wipes his eyes with one hand and straightens up. “Well, we should probably get going. I don’t want to keep you, I’m sure that you must be busy.”

Beau rolls her eyes at him but nods her agreement nonetheless. “All right, all right, we’ll stop bothering them. But we’ll see you around the base, right?” She looks to Caleb for confirmation.

He nods and Beau pumps her fist before forcing herself to resume her cool persona. “Yes! I mean, that’s cool.” She runs a hand through her hair, shiny with sweat from her sparring match with Fjord. “Well, see you later, I guess. And it was good to see you, Jester. I like your umbrella.”

She waves awkwardly before grabbing Fjord’s arm and dragging him off with her. Molly waits for them to get a polite distance away before he starts laughing.

“What’s wrong?” Caleb asks with a frown.

Molly waves him away, still chuckling. “Sorry, it’s just that the look on both of your faces was really funny. Ah, I love watching people meet Beau and Jester for the first time. It’s great.”

“Is she always like that?”

“Beau is, yeah. She’s a real gift, that one.”

“Well, I know how co-pilots are. At least Fjord and Beau seem to balance each other out. He seems… nice.”

Jester giggles and wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Do you mean that he’s _handsome_ , Caleb?”

“What? I-- no, that’s not what I meant.”

Molly shoots both of them an amused look. “If you mean that Fjord seems normal, I can assure you that he’s as fucking weird as the rest of us. And on that note, I have to go teach a bunch of youngsters how to punch each other. I think Yasha might kill me if I leave her alone with them for too long.” He claps Caleb on the shoulder and retreats back to the huge, heavily muscled woman-- Yasha, presumably.

“Hey, let’s go by the engineering lab next! We can see if maybe someone wants to come with us to see your Jaeger!” Jester suggests as she steers Caleb out of the combat room.

He shrugs. “Sure, that sounds good to me.”

“I’ll see you later, Jester! And nice meeting you, Mister Caleb!” Molly calls over his shoulder as they leave.

“Bye, Molly!” Jester shouts. “Bye, Yasha!”

Yasha turns over her shoulder and replies, “Goodbye, Jester and Caleb!”

The pink-haired Firbolg turns around and waves at Jester. “See you, Jester! Nice meeting you, Caleb!”

“Bye, Caduceus!” Jester calls back.

Caleb watches the proceedings and wonders if life around Jester is always this chaotic, or if he’s somehow cursed to make almost every social interaction a little bit excruciating. He awkwardly waves in the general direction of the others before he turns back to Jester. “Which way is it to the engineers?”

“We should go this way because we might run into Veth on the way over,” Jester informs him as she guides him into another hallway. “You would like Veth, she’s very fun! She’s one of the mechanics in the chaos crew.”

“The chaos crew? Ah, you mean Chaos Striker.”

“Yes! They all have matching leather jackets and everything. It’s, like, so cool. I asked Beau to get me one and she did, but I can’t always wear it around the base because I have to remain impartial or whatever.” Jester sighs dramatically. “I just want to wear my cool leather jacket that Beau got me!”

“The Jaeger crews in Rexxentrum had matching jackets too,” Caleb murmurs. “Most people outside of the crews didn’t wear them, though. Are you close to Beau?”

Jester pauses and blinks at him as she pushes a massive set of double doors open. “What? Beau and I are super good friends, we’re very close. I just wanted a jacket because it looked cool and I wanted to be a supportive friend, you know?”

“Are you talking about the chaos crew jackets?” A dark-haired halfling woman pipes up from-- fuck, how did she manage to get right next to Caleb without him noticing?

“Veth!” Jester exclaims and hugs the other woman. “Yes, we were! You should show Caleb yours because he hasn’t seen any yet.”

Veth spins around so her back is to Caleb. Sure enough, she’s wearing a leather jacket with _Chaos Crew_ scrawled on the back. The shoulders and lapels of her jacket are also adorned with dozens of buttons of various shapes, sizes, and colors.

“I like the buttons,” Caleb remarks. “I don’t think that I’ve seen anything like it.”

“The buttons were all my idea. Nobody else has them,” Veth says proudly, hands on her hips. “But if you do see someone with the same jacket, let me know so I can _fucking kill them_.” She whirls around and contorts her face into a snarl that reasonably resembles a moderately angry kaiju.

Somewhat taken aback, Caleb replies, “All right, I’ll keep an eye out.”

Veth relaxes and beams at Jester. “I like this one, he’s very smart.” She pats Caleb’s arm.

“I know, right? And he seems so nice.” Jester smiles at Caleb. “I’m showing him around and I was about to take him to Essek’s lab, did you want to come with us?”

“Essek is one of the engineers here? Or the head engineer?” Caleb inquires.

“Oh, Essek is one of the head engineers! He makes Jaeger designs and stuff,” Jester replies.

“You don’t know who Essek is?” Veth gives Caleb an odd look. “I thought that you were an engineer.”

“Nope!” Jester shakes her head. “Caleb is one of the new pilots, actually.”

“He’s a pilot?” Veth does a double take. “But he seems like a nerd! He radiates nerd energy. My husband is a nerd, so I’m very knowledgeable about these sorts of things.”

“I know, but he’s apparently very good at what he does. There’s no reason why he can’t be a pilot _and_ a nerd,” Jester says sagely. “Also, Veth, you do lots of chemistry and mechanical stuff, so you’re probably definitely also a nerd.”

Veth contemplates the concept for a moment before nodding. “I suppose you’re right. All right, Caleb, I rescind my earlier statement. You are definitely a nerd, but you can also be a pilot.”

“Um, thank you,” he replies.

She grins at him again and then turns back to Jester. “Now, what did I hear earlier about taking him to go see Essek’s lab?”

“Oh, yes! We haven’t visited Essek’s lab yet and I wanted to see if maybe Essek wanted to come with us when we show Caleb his new Jaeger.”

Veth makes a face. “Good luck with getting Essek out of the lab. He’s very busy, you know. Earlier today, I tried to talk to him about potentially adding explosives to Chaos Striker’s falchion, but he just kept working on Jaeger schematics.”

Jester nods solemnly and pulls out her phone. “Well, maybe I should call ahead to make sure that he isn’t busy.”

“He gave you his number, Jester?” Veth’s eyes widen comically.

Jester shrugs and taps at her phone until she pulls up Essek’s contact information. “Nope,” she says and holds her phone up to her ear. “He said that it’s polite to call ahead and make sure that he isn’t super busy before we disturb his work, so I’m going to-- oh, hi Essek!”

She puts her hand over her other ear and wiggles her eyebrows at Veth. “Actually, I was just wondering if you are busy right now and if we could maybe come show someone around in your lab maybe?”

There’s a pause as Jester bites her lip while Essek says something inaudible. “It’s the new pilot, Caleb Widogast. I’m giving him a tour of the shatterdome and I thought that he might want to see your lab since it’s super interesting and stuff.”

Another pause and Jester slowly begins to smile. “Really? You’re sure? Oh my gosh, you’re the best! We’re going there right now, don’t worry, we’ll be there in like two seconds. Okay, bye!”

Jester pockets her phone and immediately rushes down the hallway. “Come on, you two!” She calls over her shoulder.

Caleb has to jog to catch up with her, whereas Veth nearly has to break into a full-out run. Laughing, Jester darts down the hallway and disappears around a corner. Caleb arrives at the imposing steel door a moment after she does, Veth hot on his heels.

“Is this it?” He asks, hoping that he doesn’t sound too breathless. (Fuck, he’s going to need to work on his cardio if he’s going to get back in another Jaeger.)

“Yep!” With a flick of her wrist, Jester pushes the door open to reveal the interior of the lab.

As far as labs go, it’s fairly nice and surprisingly clean. Workbenches line the three walls while a floor to ceiling chalkboard takes up the last wall. Caleb recognizes some of the scribbles as partial Jaeger designs and circuit schematics. The workbenches boast all manner of Jaeger pieces from what look like finger joints to chunks of protective cladding. There’s even what appears to be the hilt of a Jaeger-sized sword resting on one workbench. Two very full bookshelves are wedged into one corner; Caleb itches to get a hold of their contents.

A sleek desk with a dual-screen computer is shoved in the middle of the line of workbenches. Next to it is a hologram of what looks like some form of cannon.

Standing in front of the hologram is a lithe drow man with short, perfectly coiffed white hair. With his neatly pressed white button-up shirt and charcoal gray slacks, he is far better dressed than most of the other engineers that Caleb has seen.

The door opens soundlessly and the man glances over. “Ah, hello. One moment, if you please.”

He taps a few things on the hologram and peers at them before he closes the program. The hologram flickers out of existence, leaving the lab dimly lit by several lights stationed around the room.

The drow man glances over at their group and hums thoughtfully. With a snap of his fingers, the remainder of the lights in the room turn on and illuminate the space. “My apologies for the wait. Nonetheless, welcome to my lab. I am Essek Theylss and I’m responsible for overseeing the design of the Jaegers in the Rosohna shatterdome.”

As Essek moves towards them, Caleb realizes with a start that Essek is floating several inches above the floor. The only visible mechanism that could possibly let him float are his silvery leg braces. Their organic, curling design is a sleek but elegant affair.

It takes a moment for Caleb to put two and two together. Rosohna’s Jaegers are known for their unusual alacrity and impressive manipulation of gravity. Even when Caleb was in the Rexxentrum shatterdome, there was talk of Rosohna’s gravity cannons and vibroblades that cut through kaiju flesh like butter.

Essek extends one hand to shake and, in a daze, Caleb shakes it.

“I do not to be rude, but you are _the_ Essek Thelyss, correct? The creator of the first functional gravity cannon?” The words rush out of Caleb’s mouth and he feels the tips of his ears warm. “I mean-- I read your treatise on the merits of using superconducting wiring to improve Jaeger reaction times. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Essek chuckles politely and raises an eyebrow. “You have an interest in engineering in addition to being a pilot?”

He nods. “A little, yes. My specialty is kaiju biology, but I enjoy dabbling in other fields when I can. There’s a lot to be learned from the intersection between kaiju biology and engineering.”

Head tilted, Essek looks over Caleb in manner reminiscent of the way that a scientist might inspect a sample under a microscope. “Well, my lab primarily deals with Jaeger designs, but I’d be happy to discuss my work with you at some point.”

Caleb nods eagerly. “That would be wonderful. I’ve done some characterization of the tensile strength and chemical composition of kaiju skin. I’d love to talk to you about potential ideas for Jaeger weapons that I’ve stumbled across during my research.”

“I’ve heard word of your work before. We should talk.”

He nearly shivers as Essek continues regarding him for another long moment. The magnetic, trance-like quality of Essek’s gaze finally breaks when Jester pats him on the arm.

“See, I knew that you two would like each other!” Jester leans in conspirationally towards Essek and wiggles her eyebrows. To his credit, Essek’s expression remains politely neutral. “I know that you’re super busy, Essek, so let’s go show Caleb the new Jaeger, okay?”

“Very well.” With a roll of his shoulders, Essek strides out of the lab with Veth, Jester, and Caleb trailing after him.

“The Jaeger that I’m meant to pilot was built recently, _ja_? Expositor Dairon hasn’t told me much about it, so I’m afraid that I’m in the dark here.” Caleb says as they walk.

“They’ve been building it for the past few months. Its bay is right next to Chaos Striker’s, so I’ve been hearing construction noises for _forever,”_ Veth informs him, letting out an annoyed huff.

“You aren’t part of the construction team, then?”

Veth scoffs and shakes her head. “What? Ew, no, of course not! I’m part of the chaos crew! Chaos Striker is the best Jaeger in the entire world, you know. Why would I help build _your_ Jaeger?”

Essek stops mid-step and fixes Veth with a level stare. “Do you think that my newest Jaeger is bad?”

“No, no no, it’s not that at all. I’m just saying that Chaos Striker is objectively the best Jaeger ever, so none of the others will ever measure up.”

With a final stare, Essek turns back around and continues walking. Jester prods Veth and gives her a meaningful look. They whisper frantically as they walk-- an argument of some sort, perhaps?

The hallway grows wider and noisier as they near the Jaeger bays. By the time that the hallway reaches the main atrium, the air is filled with a familiar cacophony of shouting, clanging, and whirring. A crew of mechanics hurries past them as Caleb stops to stare at the Jaegers bays lining the room.

“Caleb, here--” Jester reaches out to tug him out of the path of a forklift carrying what looks like a disarticulated Jaeger hand.

Caleb thanks her, raising his voice to be heard above the din, as he follows Essek. Sparing only a glance over his shoulder to confirm that the group is still trailing behind him, Essek strides towards a particularly shiny-looking Jaeger. He confidently makes his way around the people and debris of the atrium until they’re all standing at the foot of a Jaeger.

Essek turns around to face them. “This is our newest Jaeger. We haven’t named it yet, but that will happen as soon as your co-pilot is selected.”

Heart in his throat, Caleb steps forward until he’s close enough to rest both hands on the cool metal of the-- _his_ \-- Jaeger. It stands, tall and regal, like a sleeping specter next to the other Jaegers. His Jaeger’s lithe frame is clearly built to prioritize speed, not strength. From this distance, its deep gray cladding looks impossibly smooth. It forms wide curls around the Jaeger’s joints, exposing swathes of the darker wiring beneath. White swirls of paint follow the edge of the metal and swirl around its joints like mist. Two crossed implements, which Caleb suspects are some form of melee weapon, rest on its back.

He becomes aware of a presence to his left. Caleb glances over and finds Essek standing next to him, smiling.

“I’m sorry, I just-- she’s beautiful,” he says breathlessly.

“The Jaeger is a her, hmm?” Essek raises an eyebrow, but his tone is playful.

Caleb feels the tips of his ears flush and he shrugs helplessly. “Just a feeling.” Essek hums but doesn’t contradict him. “What material is her cladding made of?”

Looking up at the Jaeger, Essek places a gentle hand on her surface. “Most of the cladding is a titanium alloy that has been treated for heat resistance.”

“I take it that most of her weapons are fire-based to minimize the spread of Kaiju blue?”

Essek nods. “Some of them, but we’re also including a few of my gravity-based creations. You’ll have a veritable arsenal to choose from.” He pauses and tilts his head, regarding Caleb curiously. His earrings, simple crystal studs, wink in the light of the bay. “You seem like an intelligent and resourceful person, Caleb. I’m interested to see what you’ll do with her in the field.”

“I’ll do my best,” Caleb promises.

Essek glances over his shoulder and Caleb finds that a small crowd has gathered behind them. Panic knots in his chest as he realizes that this crowd is gathered here because of _him_. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Essek watching him.

Jester appears from behind Caleb and taps him on the shoulder. “Caleb, I just remembered that you have a meeting to review new protocol in ten minutes. We should probably go.”

“All right,” Caleb murmurs and nods gratefully to her. He tries to smile at the gathered mechanics, but it comes out as more of a pained grimace.

Caleb steps forward and the shatterdome’s crew parts around him like water. Somewhere behind him, Jester and Veth trail after him. He swallows painfully when he sees the hopeful looks on people’s faces.

He is not the savior that they think they are getting. He is a garbage person and he will let them down eventually.

_Still_ , a small part of him says, _you have to try._

His feet lead him to the mouth of the hallway. When he looks back, he finds Essek still watching him from the base of the Jaeger. Caleb nods slightly at him before Veth tugs at his sleeve.

“Let’s go, Cay Cay!” She declares. Together, Veth and Jester lead him into the depths of the shatterdome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed the first installment of Caleb's Jaeger adventures! This is my first time writing anything with characters from CR, so I hope that their characterization is at least somewhat accurate. 
> 
> My update schedule will likely be sporadic because I'm in college, but I'll do my best. I'm hoping to make this a relatively short fic (<30k) so it doesn't take forever to write lol.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to follow my writing blog (@[distracted-dragon-age](https://distracted-dragon-age.tumblr.com/)) for more content. <3


	2. like a mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb discovers all sorts of fascinating opportunities in the combat room, including a shave and a new co-pilot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm very excited to bring you another chapter of "Caleb punches monsters while also being a huge nerd". Enjoy!
> 
> The title and many lines in Caleb and Yasha's conversation are from the "do you love her" conversation in episode 92.
> 
> CW: brief mention of scars (canon level)  
> (Stop reading at _"but his shirt has long sleeves instead of being sleeveless."_ and resume reading at _"A new group of people strides into the combat room"_ )

With his upcoming drift compatibility test two days away, Caleb throws himself into training. After escaping the dreadfully dry protocol meeting, he spends the remainder of his first afternoon and evening in the combat room.

Luckily, he maintained some form of workout routine during his years of so-called retirement. He’s not terribly out of shape, but his basic forms and combat reflexes could use some work.

Frumpkin watches him with one eye open from the corner of the room as Caleb goes through the motions of basic attacks and footwork. It feels good to have a bo staff in his hands again and to feel the controlled race of his heart as he practices. (The blisters don’t feel nearly as good, but he’ll manage.)

For the most part, people leave him alone in his corner. It probably helps that it’s hard to spot much of him from the doorway other than the occasional flash of his red hair.

His first full day in the shatterdome passes without too many disturbances. Caleb finds that he won’t be bothered in the cafeteria if he puts his hood up and sits in the corner, away from everyone else. After returning from dinner, he loads an instrumental playlist on his phone-- it’s brand new, courtesy of the PWDC-- and sets about doing a series of stretches.

He completes the first half of his stretches and sits down on the floor to stretch out his legs. Frumpkin, however, has a different idea. With a pleased meow, Frumpkin pads over to him and plops down on his lap.

“What are you doing?” Caleb asks him in Zemnian. “I need to stretch, silly cat.”

He scritches Frumpkin’s ears and attempts to gently nudge him off his lap, but Frumpkin stubbornly refuses to move. Instead, he starts to purr.

With a smile, Caleb shakes his head and reaches over Frumpkin to start stretching out his legs. The process is a bit unconventional and he ends up with cat hair in his mouth, but it works. As he continues his stretches, Frumpkin eventually decides to hop onto his shoulders and drape himself like a scarf around his neck. This proves to be a much better arrangement, both in terms of mobility and the amount of cat hair that he accidentally inhales.

Eventually, he finishes his stretches. Once he’s fairly sure that he won’t get a cramp from working out too soon after eating, he continues working on his basic forms.

The hours tick past as Caleb practices. One by one, other people trickle out of the combat room until only him and Frumpkin remain. However, his solitude doesn’t last forever. Caleb is in the middle of practicing a particularly complicated strike when the door to the combat room swings open with a creak.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize that there was anyone in here,” Yasha says from the doorway. “I can leave -- I don’t want to disturb you.”

Caleb rests the end of his staff against the floor. “No, it’s all right. There’s plenty of room for another person.” He gestures at the expanse of the room.

“All right, if you’re sure.” She walks over to him and stops a good ten feet away. “I know that you have a big day tomorrow. Are you practicing for the compatibility tests?”

“To an extent, ja, but I’m mostly practicing for myself. It’s been a few years, so I’m a little bit rusty.” Caleb shrugs. “It’s easier to do this than to try to sleep, in any case.”

A small, sad smile crosses Yasha’s face. “I know the feeling. It’s been years since I’ve been in a Jaeger, but sometimes I still have trouble sleeping.”

Another former pilot? He searches his memory until he comes up with a name: Yasha Nydoorin and Zuala Nydoorin, pilots of Tempest Apostle. Their Jaeger was decommissioned years ago after Zuala Nydoorin died in combat.

“We were pilots at the same time, I think,” Caleb recalls. “You were stationed in Xhorhas, right?”

“I was,” she nods. “The Crimson Scourger was in Rexxentrum, no? I remember watching news reports of some of your fights. You were very good.”

Caleb shivers at the name of his former Jaeger and ducks his head. “We were in Rexxentrum, ja. And thank you. I… did my best.”

Yasha pauses, watching him with her somewhat unnerving mismatched eyes before staring at the ground. She crosses her arms, inadvertently revealing her clearly well-muscled biceps, and then immediately uncrosses them. Her face bears the look of someone who wants to ask a question but doesn’t know which question to ask.

Caleb decides to give her a moment to collect her thoughts and glances over at Frumpkin instead. His cat is watching them both with half-lidded eyes from his perch atop the spare mats.

After a moment, Yasha lifts her gaze back to his and says, “We’re pretty similar people, I think. Do you mind if I ask you something?” 

“I cannot guarantee that I’ll be able to answer it to your satisfaction, but I can try.”

Yasha nods absently and shifts her weight. “I hope that I’m not being too forward in asking you this, but... how do you deal with it?”

He is a former pilot who ended up in early retirement, as is she, and they’re both awake and in the combat room at eleven forty-seven at night. It’s easy for him to figure out what she means by _it._

“Is it that obvious?” Caleb laughs, but the sound rings hollow in his ears.

“I guess from someone who knows. I’ve only heard things about your past, but we don’t have to talk about it.” Yasha starts to turn away to leave, but Caleb speaks before she can take a step.

“My thing is old, so I guess I’m accustomed to it. Yours, though, it’s fresh.”

Yasha pauses and turns back around. When he looks past her intimidating height and build, he sees echoes of the same very familiar desperate, choking shadows in her eyes.

“It doesn’t go away, but it’s easier with people around you to make you feel more like you.” His gaze flickers over to Frumpkin and then back to Yasha. “I left behind many of my friends and acquaintances in my old shatterdome, after…” He trails off and swallows, throat dry. “But I managed.”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” Yasha murmurs meaningfully. “I know that the reports out of Rexxentrum were covering up something, so I don’t know the whole story, but-- I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” he replies, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

Yasha nods and fidgets with her hands. “The forgiveness is almost harder to deal with,” she says quietly. “Anger is an emotion that I know how to deal with because that’s where I live. With everyone being so nice and accepting, I don’t know how to handle it.”

Caleb tightens and loosens his hands around his bo staff reflexively. “I see hesitation and regret in you, and it is like a mirror.” Yasha looks up, meeting his gaze with those bright eyes. “I know regret, and I regret. And unless my intuition is very off, you know regret.”

“It feels like it was my fault,” she whispers. “I just, I don’t know how to come back from that. It’s been three years and it’s gotten better, but I still find myself expecting to see her walking through the hallways like nothing is wrong.”

Caleb swallows and thinks of homemade loaves of bread, of his father’s smile, of his mother’s laugh. Of fire and a city block reduced to rubble. Of Trent Ikithon’s smile, which in hindsight had never quite reached his eyes.

Yasha seemingly takes his silence as a sign that the conversation is over and backpedals accordingly. “I-- I don’t want to put all of this on you, or anything, but I remember watching footage of your fights when I was in training. You inspired a lot of people, you know. A lot of future pilots. I know that we’re supposed to keep everything about you previously being a pilot quiet, and I think that everyone here is pretty committed to doing that.”

She pauses and shakes her head as if to clear it. “What I’m trying to say is that you’ve helped a lot of people and we all see that. People want to help you regardless of whether or not you think you deserve it.”

He tries to open his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His eyes sting and when Caleb lifts a hand to touch them, he realizes that he’s crying. It takes a moment before he manages, “I don’t think that I deserve the weight of all of these eyes staring at me, but I’ll do what I can.”

“I know,” says Yasha with the conviction of someone who means it.

He takes a deep breath and says hoarsely, “You can’t wash your hands, but you can use them to leave something better in the world. Maybe you’ll never feel better, but what else do you do? You either lose yourself to it and forget, or you do your part.”

Yasha nods. “I don’t know what I’m doing and maybe you don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s better to be lost together than be lost apart.” She watches him rub at his eyes for a moment before she adds, “You know, I’m pretty bad at comforting people, but I’ve been told that I give very good hugs.”

Caleb takes a shaky breath and stares at her in confusion.

“What I mean to say,” she amends, “is do you want a hug?”

He blinks a little bit incredulously at her before slowly nodding. “Yes, sure, that would be nice.”

Yasha approaches him carefully, giving him time to back away before she envelops him with her massive arms. She was right, she does give very good hugs. Caleb wraps his arms around her waist and tries to focus on steadying his breathing. He hopes that he won’t leave a huge wet spot on her cutoff shirt from a combination of snot and tears but hey, what can you do?

Once Caleb’s tears have died down into mere sniffles, Yasha releases him. He wipes at his eyes, only to find her staring at him.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks, wiping at his cheeks to remove whatever dirt she must be looking at.

“Yes-- well, technically no. But also yes. It’s your beard,” she says. “Do you want to shave it?”

“What?”

“It’s just that you have your compatibility tests tomorrow and I know that most pilots like to keep theirs very short so it doesn’t catch on their helmets. I could shave it for you, if you wanted.” She pauses. “Sorry if I’m overstepping, you really don’t have to--”

Caleb rubs at his chin where his scruff has transformed into a somewhat unruly beard. “No, actually, that’s a good idea. You just caught me off guard is all.”

“Do you want me to shave it for you?”

He looks at her in surprise. “You know how to shave beards? Have you done it before?”

“Yes? I’ve done it for Fjord before. How do you think he got the scar on his face?”

Caleb stares at her in slowly growing horror before Yasha shakes her head frantically.

“That’s not-- I’m sorry, I was trying to be funny. I have shaved Fjord before, but that’s not how he got his scar. Nobody actually knows how he got it, but the most popular theory is that he fell face-first off a swing when he was a kid.”

“Oh,” he says.

“Yes. Anyways. Do you want me to shave your beard for you?”

“I don’t know where my razor is among all of my things, so sure. Should we go to your room?”

Yasha nods and waits for Caleb to put away his staff and scoop up Frumpkin before she walks out of the combat room. She leads him out into the main hallway and then into a side branch that contains shatterdome officers’ quarters. The door to her room opens with a creak and she has to duck to avoid hitting her head on the too-short doorframe.

Her room has the same tired concrete walls and stoic metal doors as every shatterdome in existence, but that’s not what catches Caleb’s attention first. Instead, his eyes go to the wildflower mural blooming on the rough wall next to her bed. He absently sets Frumpkin down on the floor before stepping forward to get a better look. They’re beautiful, the pinnacle of spring blooms immortalized with a few brushstrokes. A few flowers in the field extend to the ceiling, wrapping around the pipes.

He thinks that he sees a few dicks lurking among the flowers, but maybe it’s just his imagination. A closer inspection reveals that, yes, there are actually several dicks hidden throughout the mural.

They are well-rendered and very realistic. The artist must be rather talented.

Yasha continues towards her bathroom, oblivious to Caleb’s staring until she turns around and finds that he’s no longer right at her heels.

“Jester painted those,” she explains with her arms crossed as she leans against the bathroom doorframe. “Well, I helped a little, but it was mostly her. I’m not very artistic.”

“They’re lovely,” Caleb says honestly.

Yasha ducks her head. “Thank you. They were fun to make, very relaxing. If you want, I can let you know the next time that we add more to it?”

“That would be nice, ja. Thank you.”

“I’ll do that, then.” She nods and grabs her desk chair before disappearing into the bathroom. “It might be easier to shave you in here so we don’t get hair everywhere.”

Caleb obediently trails after her and waits for Yasha to drape a few ratty towels over the chair before leaning it against the sink. She pats the chair and he sits down. It’s not the most comfortable chair, but it’ll do.

Yasha rummages around her bathroom cabinet and sets a can of shaving cream down on the counter. From her medicine cabinet, she produces an alarmingly large knife.

“Yasha,” Caleb begins hesitantly, “Do you not have a razor?”

“What? Oh, no, I don’t. But I shaved Fjord with this before and it was fine. I’m very good with knives, I promise.”

Caleb looks from Yasha’s earnest face to the knife in her hands and decides that he’s been through worse things than this. “All right,” he says and tilts his head back, leaving himself at the mercy of a very tall woman with a knife.

“Try not to move,” she says and gets to work.

All things considered, it doesn’t turn out that badly. At the end of it, Caleb’s beard has been reduced to much more manageable scruff. It may be a little bit uneven in some areas, but Yasha somehow managed to avoid nicking him so he really can’t complain.

“This looks much better than it did before,” he remarks as he marvels at Yasha’s handiwork in the mirror. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

Yasha shrugs and rubs the back of her neck like she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “It was nothing-- I’m happy to help. I should let you get to bed, though. It’s getting pretty late.”

Caleb doesn’t have to glance at the time on his phone to know that it’s past midnight. He stands up and touches his face again. “Ah, yes. Do you need any help cleaning up here?”

“No, no, I should be fine. You should go sleep-- you’ll need your rest.”

“All right, if you’re sure. Thank you again, Yasha, and good night.”

He waves goodbye at her and slips out of her room, closing the door behind himself and Frumpkin with a soft _click_. At this hour, the halls are eerily still as he finds his way back to his quarters. He’ll need whatever sleep he can scrounge up for tomorrow.

\---

It seems that word must have gotten around that his drift compatibility test is today because the combat room is the most crowded that Caleb has ever seen it in his brief time at the Rosohna shatterdome. He doesn’t recognize most of the people here but, judging by their stares, they evidently know _him._ Wonderful.

Caleb does his best to ignore them as he stretches. He’s wearing the typical combat room uniform of navy blue sweatpants and a plain white shirt, but his shirt has long sleeves instead of being sleeveless.

As long as he doesn’t roll up the sleeves, nobody will see the scars dappling his forearms, tinged faintly by the toxins in kaiju blue. Still, he hates the feeling of being looked at, of being seen.

A new group of people strides into the combat room and the general chatter permeating the room dies down. Caleb glances over and sees Jester in an official-looking blue blazer and a rather unofficial-looking poofy skirt. With her is Caduceus, whose pink hair is pulled back into a braid.

Jester grins at Caleb and gives him a thumbs up. Caduceus waves, smiling. Caleb manages a nod and faint smile in reply, but his stomach is tense with nerves.

Behind them, Essek walks side by side with a tall, formally dressed drow woman. His hair is just as perfectly coiffed as it was the other day and he is similarly well-dressed, albeit with the addition of a long military-style jacket. He’s carrying a tablet with him and his mouth is curled up into a self-assured smile.

The drow woman next to him wears her uniform like she was born in it. Her collection of medals glitter in the light and her white hair is braided around her head like a crown. Even the greenest rookie would recognize the uniform of a Marshall when they saw one. This must be Quana Kryn, Marshall of the Rosohna shatterdome and partner of the Bright Queen.

Marshall Kryn takes her place at the other end of the room as the crowd shifts to accompany her and her entourage. Caleb risks a glance at Essek and finds that the other man’s eyes are fixated on him.

“Good morning,” says Marshall Kryn. Caleb finds himself snapping into attention-- some habits die hard, it seems.

The Marshall glances at him and, amused, says, “You may all stand down.”

He relaxes. Out of the corners of his eyes, he sees a scattering of others around the room following suit.

“Well, let’s get to it. The sooner that we find you a co-pilot, the sooner that we can start defending our people.”

A group of young, fresh-faced recruits lines up along one wall as Caduceus produces a clipboard from somewhere beneath his overcoat.

“Thank you, Marshall. All right, let’s begin. Vidala, would you please step forward?”

A smiling drow woman steps forward and picks up a bo staff from the rack. Someone tosses Caleb a staff and he catches it with numb fingers, twirling it in his hands. They both settle into fighting stances and Caleb forces his worries into the back of his head as the recruit’s staff swings in a wide arc towards him.

One by one, Caleb churns through the line of recruits. Although their fighting styles vary, the quality of their training shines through in their crisp footwork and clever moves. Still, none of them feel right. With the right partner, the fight should be like a dance, but Caleb finds that everyone else is moving to a different tempo.

Throughout it all, he can feel Essek’s eyes boring a hole in the back of his skull. Caleb earns a handful of bruises from glancing over at him when he should’ve been focused on his opponent. The engineer’s eyes remain focused on Caleb instead of on the tablet in his hands.

When he reaches the end of the line, someone tosses him a towel and a water bottle. Caleb chugs it, letting some of it drip onto his face before he wipes his face and neck down with the towel. He tosses it back in the direction that it came from as Marshall Kryn speaks.

“Current pilots, form a line.” The assortment of pilots scattered throughout the room convene in a single file line with minimal scrabbling. “All right, Ranger Stone, if you please.”

Fjord steps out from his place at the front of the line and dips his head in acknowledgment to Caleb, who returns the gesture.

“Begin!” says Caduceus.

Both of them settle into a defensive stance, circling the other. It’s Caleb who strikes first with a blow towards Fjord’s left shoulder, testing his defenses. Fjord parries, knocking Caleb’s staff to the side and stepping neatly away.

Throughout their fight, it’s clear that Fjord’s fighting style is more defensive. In Chaos Striker, the combination of Beau and Fjord’s personalities clearly balances each other out. Here in the combat room, the intended dance of drift compatibility turns into a halting scramble for control of the fight.

Something moving in the corner of his eye catches Caleb’s attention. Caleb turns to look and sees Essek striding out of the room mid-fight. His back is facing towards Caleb, so he can’t see the look on Essek’s face as he brushes past the gathered crowd and leaves.

Caleb is too distracted by Essek’s sudden departure to block Fjord’s next attack. He cleaves through Caleb’s defenses and halts his staff a good half-foot away from his throat.

“That’s enough for now,” Caduceus calls.

Fjord relaxes, but Caleb’s shoulders remain tense.

“That was a good fight. Thank you,” Fjord says politely and claps Caleb on the shoulder as Caduceus calls the next pilot forward.

The rest of the fights proceed in a similar manner. Caleb knows what it feels like to be drift compatible with someone, but none of these pilots come close. When he piloted Crimson Scourger, he had two co-pilots. Why is he not drift compatible with any of the people here? Maybe something in him broke in the space between the deaths of his parents and his time spent locked in that asylum. Maybe he’s just a shitty, garbage person.

It feels like a punishment and a blessing wrapped into one: he doesn’t have to go into a Jaeger. No more Trent Ikithon and his experiments and his mind games. On the other hand: he can’t go into a Jaeger. People will die.

The look on Quana Kryn’s face as she dismisses him is grim. She orders another set of compatibility tests to take place in four days, enough time to fly in recruits from other shatterdomes in Xhorhas. Caleb leaves the combat room sweaty and flushed from exertion and embarrassment.

\---

“Don’t look so worried, Caleb! I’m sure that they’ll find a co-pilot for you soon,” Jester chirps as Caleb mechanically shovels some form of spiced chicken into his mouth. He’s not sure which spices are in it; regardless, it’s pretty damn good for cafeteria food.

“I am not worried,” he says automatically, the lie bitter in his mouth.

“You know, it’s just like finding your soulmate.” She leans in and wiggles her eyebrows. “Some people just take longer to find theirs than others! But I’m sure that your co-pilot will be very cool and pretty.”

Caleb focuses on eating and purposefully doesn’t meet her eyes. “Ja, well, we will see about that.”

Jester’s phone chimes and she flips through her notifications before squealing. “Oh, Caleb, look!” She holds her phone up to him. The motion sends light dancing across the pink crystals bedazzled on her phone case.

As Caleb peers at the most recent message, he absently wonders if Jester’s phone case sheds fake crystals everywhere she goes.

DISCORD _now_

**programming god**

i figured out how to fix the bug in ur code for Commune :3c

**programming god**

i adjusted some of ur conditionals and made a new dictionary for all of the event coordinates/times and kaiju categories bc the old one was wacky af

**programming god**

lmk if u want to video call later so i can explain everything in person. i can always make time to talk with my best disciple ;)

**programming god**

btw you’re missing a single parenthesis on line 72 lmao

“Who is the _programming god_?” Caleb asks curiously as Jester takes her phone back and scrolls through her notifications, giggling.

“Have you not heard of him?” Jester gasps dramatically and turns back to Caleb. “He’s only the best programmer ever! He taught me everything he knows about coding and now I’m like, super good at it. His name is Artagan and he is very cool and handsome.”

“Isn’t Artagan the same guy who ate a hard boiled egg with the shell on?” Beau asks, nudging Jester with her elbow.

“Yes, but he’s really cool, I promise!” Jester protests, putting a placating hand on Beau’s arm. “He also loves petit fours with the cutest pink frosting; they’re wonderful. I had some the last time that I visited him and oh my god you guys, they were so good.”

From across the table, Fjord makes eye contact with Caleb. “Once, I saw him bite into a raw onion like it was an apple.”

“He drinks Mountain Dew every time you video call him,” Beau adds.

(“ _Beau_!” Jester whines, leaning so far towards Beau that she’s nearly in the pilot’s lap. The two of them dissolve into teasing and Caleb lets them have their moment.)

“I mean, he knows a lot, he’s just kind of…” Fjord trails off, searching for the right word. “Weird.”

“Hmmm, I can see that.” Caleb hums noncommittally as they both glance over at the pair.

Beau is currently resting her chin on Jester’s shoulder as Jester shows her something on her phone. Jester laughs at something on her phone and Beau smiles at her, eyes crinkling at the corners. Is this what life at a shatterdome is supposed to be like? Warmth, laughter, friends turned into family?

\---

Caleb goes through the rest of his day on autopilot. Late at night, when everyone who’s maintaining the pretense of a normal sleep schedule has retreated to bed, he finds himself standing in the combat room again.

There are a few stragglers milling about the combat room who have presumably given up trying to go to sleep at a normal time and have instead decided to beat the shit out of each other with wooden sticks. Caleb understands and does his best to stay out of their way.

He goes through a series of stretches in the corner, paying extra attention to his various aches and pains from his earlier compatibility tests. Tomorrow, he will likely have constellations of bruises mapped across his skin. Right now, he just wants to train and clear his head.

The door to the combat room creaks open and the clacking of wood on wood falters. Caleb glances over to the entrance and, to his surprise, spots the one and only Essek Thelyss.

While Essek does not look quite as comfortable here as he did in his lab, he hides it well. He leaves his shoes and socks in the shoe rack next to the door and hangs his long, dark coat on a coat hook. Beneath it, he’s wearing the typical combat room attire of navy sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

Essek makes a beeline for Caleb, ignoring the stares of the other occupants of the room. Actually, they’re sending hushed, darting glances between Essek and Caleb as if watching a chess match.

Caleb pulls himself out of a stretch and blinks at Essek as he stops a good fifteen feet away. “Ah, hello, Herr Thelyss.”

The way Essek looks at him retains none of the detached interest of when they first met. Now, he’s staring like Caleb is a question that he can’t find the answer to. Up close, Caleb can see the tension hidden behind the confident set of Essek’s shoulders.

“Hello, Caleb,” Essek replies, eyes fixed on Caleb’s face. “I’ve heard that you’re a very accomplished fighter.”

“I have some experience,” Caleb deflects easily, drumming his fingers against his leg. He jerks his chin towards Essek’s outfit and remarks, “I didn't know that you fight. Did you come here to spar?"

Essek ignores the question and regards him for a moment longer, expression unreadable. 

At last, Essek asks, “Are you busy right now?”

“No,” says Caleb. “Not for you, anyways.”

A faintly sardonic smile curls at Essek’s mouth. Without another word, he pivots and strides over to the rack containing the wooden bo staffs. He grabs two and turns back to Caleb, tossing one over to him. Caleb catches it with one hand.

“Good,” says Essek. “Now, show me something impressive.”

For a heartbeat, time crystallizes and Caleb lets himself study Essek’s face. He’s too far away to see whether there are bags under Essek’s eyes or worry lines on his forehead. All the same, Caleb understands the crushing weight of expectations. It is silent, looming, suffocating.

Essek darts forward, his feet barely touching the mat, and lashes out like lightning. Operating on pure instinct, Caleb falls into a defensive stance and raises his weapon to block.

With the first connection of their staffs, the rest of the room and its inhabitants become utterly unimportant. The only thing that matters is the man in front of him.

Falling into the rhythm of the fight is as easy as falling asleep. Each step and each swing of a staff is a single note in a symphony. Caleb doesn’t have to think about each move and merely lets himself glide through the motions. Every blow is a question and every parry is an answer that resonates in his bones. They are of two bodies and one mind.

He does not have to stop and wonder what this fight means. The dance, the wordless conversation-- _this_ is what it means to be drift compatible.

Caleb’s staff halts mere inches away from Essek’s throat. They are on the mat and Essek is pinned beneath him, but that does not prevent Essek from angling his staff towards Caleb’s ribs.

Sweat trickles down the back of Caleb’s neck-- he will definitely need a shower after this. Part of him is faintly pleased at how Essek’s hair has fallen into a slight state of disarray. Both of them are panting from exertion, eyes boring into each other.

“Four all! I’m going to call this one a draw, folks,” Caduceus calls from the sidelines. He’s wearing a mint green bathrobe and his hair is tied up in a bun, but he’s grinning from ear to ear.

With a jolt, Caleb realizes that they have an audience. Caduceus is standing in the same spot as he was during the drift compatibility tests earlier today. Those fights feel years away, now. The room is lined with people clad in pajamas, a semblance of normal clothes, or an odd mixture of both.

Essek taps Caleb’s thigh, a reminder that Caleb still has him pressed to the mat. Muttering an apology, Caleb climbs off of Essek and offers a hand to help him up. He accepts and Caleb hauls him to his feet.

They stand there silently for a moment, caught between staring and avoiding each other’s eyes. Caleb is unsure what to do with his limbs, so he wipes the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. His hand comes away wet-- how long were they fighting for?

Someone off to the side claps and lets out a whoop. Caleb turns to see Beau in an old tank top and sweatpants as she cheers. Next to her, Fjord is similarly dressed in what must be his pajamas as he smiles and claps with her. The applause spreads like wildfire and before he knows it, the room rings with the sound of cheers and cries of joy.

It feels like half of the shatterdome is squeezed into the room with them. He spies Molly wearing the ugliest patchwork bathrobe that Caleb has ever seen in his entire life. Yasha, who is still dressed in her normal clothes, looms behind him and looks pleased. Veth is wearing a yellow nightgown and holding the hand of an unfamiliar halfling man. Across the room, Jester pops out from behind Caduceus and whispers something into his ear. She’s wearing a matching set of pink and white-striped pajamas and bunny slippers, but she looks as chipper as ever.

Caleb exchanges a helpless glance with Essek, who merely raises an eyebrow at him in reply. They stand there awkwardly until the applause begins to die down.

At last, Quana Kryn steps forward from where she had evidently been watching from behind Caduceus. (Caleb isn’t sure how he didn’t notice her until now, but then again, he missed all of the people flooding into the room. One person, he thinks, is excusable.) She raises a hand and the room falls quiet, save for a few whispers. Despite the late hour, she’s still wearing her uniform.

“Well, it looks like we’ve found your co-pilot, Ranger Widogast,” she announces, failing to suppress her grin. “We’ll have your first drift in three days. Until then, I don’t want you to leave each other’s side.”

“Is that an order, Marshall?” Essek asks mildly.

“Yes, Thelyss, it is. I don’t want to hear word of one of you being seen without the other until after you drift. When all of this is over, you should be able to finish each other’s sentences. We need you to be a well-oiled machine, not two people. Am I understood?” Her eyes glitter.

“Understood, Marshall,” Caleb replies quickly.

“Good. Now, all of you, go to bed. Surely you all have better things to be doing than skulking around the combat room.”

Considering the impressive number of people present, their audience dissolves rather quickly. Dazed, Caleb watches as they stream out.

Finally, Essek clears his throat. “So,” he begins before trailing off.

“If you prefer, I can move my things into your quarters tonight. I travel fairly light and I’m not fully unpacked yet, so it wouldn’t be any trouble,” Caleb offers.

“All right, that should be fine,” Essek says slowly.

“Do you mind if I bring my cat? He is very well-behaved, I promise.”

“I don’t mind. Shall we go collect your things?”

Caleb nods and holds his hand out for Essek’s bo staff. Essek passes it to him and Caleb busies himself with putting them away as Essek pulls on his jacket and fiddles with the settings on his leg braces.

They wordlessly depart the combat room and Caleb leads him to his quarters. Essek slips through the bedroom door after him like a ghost and stands in the corner, staring at his phone. Meanwhile, Caleb bustles around the room and shoves some extra clothes and his old, clunky laptop into a small duffel bag.

“Don’t worry about bringing blankets or things for your cat. Someone will drop off an extra cot and some food and a litterbox for Frumpkin,” Essek informs him, barely looking up from his phone.

“Ah, good to know, thank you,” Caleb responds distractedly from the bathroom as he tosses his toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste into the bag. He steps out of the bathroom and Essek glances over at him. “I have everything. Should we go?”

With a nod, Essek sweeps out of the room and leads him down a complicated series of hallways and into an area of the shatterdome that Caleb hasn’t seen yet. 

Essek unlocks his door and holds it open for Caleb. “After you.”

“Ah, thank you,” Caleb says and slips inside.

For PWDC-assigned quarters in a shatterdome, Essek’s room is pretty damn nice. It has the same concrete walls, half-rusted pipes, and overhead fluorescent lights as most of the shatterdome, but there are enough personal touches that it doesn’t feel like a concrete tomb. Essek’s tastes are best described as _rich person minimalist_. There’s a window-- an actual window!-- in an alcove on one side of the room, nestled next to what must be the bathroom. A cot with scratchy-looking white sheets is shoved into the nook beneath the window. The window’s curtains are dark gray but shimmer with a slight iridescence; they match the comforter on Essek’s bed on the other side of the room. Several canvases with swirling purple and black abstract art dot the room.

Essek doesn’t bother turning on the overhead lights and instead flicks on several elegant chrome lamps, casting the room in their soft glow. “You can set your things down anywhere,” he says as he pulls a bundle of fabric from the closet.

“Those sheets look terrible. You can use these instead.” The bundle of fabric turns out to be a set of sheets and a blanket that matches the one already on Essek’s bed. He sets the bundle down on the cot and turns to look over an orchid perched on his glass and metal desk.

Caleb drifts towards the simple metal bookcase and looks over its contents. While the lab primarily contained technical manuscripts, this bookcase bears several tomes on the history of the dens and what appears to be a few scattered books of poetry.

Before he can begin to contemplate the connections between Essek and the contents of his bookshelves, Caleb breaks into an ear-splitting yawn.

Essek glances over at him. “Ah, I forgot that humans need more rest than us,” he remarks, a polite smile in place. “Feel free to make use of my bathroom and shower. There are towels inside.”

Caleb mumbles his thanks and fishes his toiletries and pajamas out of his bag. As he disappears into the bathroom, he catches a glimpse of Essek crouching down to scratch Frumpkin’s chin.

The bathroom is similarly nice to the rest of Essek’s quarters. The floor tiles are still a pristine white instead of mildewed and gross like most shatterdome bathrooms. A glass vase on the counter contains several sprigs of dried lavender bound together with twine and gently perfumes the room with their scent.

Caleb locks the door, flips on the fan, and sheds his clothes. Incredibly, the water coming out of the showerhead is actually hot. Small miracles. He nudges the shower chair to the side and steps into the bathtub.

Obviously high-end bottles of bath products line the edge of the tub, but Caleb uses his own dollar store shampoo and conditioner instead. He doesn’t know how protective Essek is of his bath products and doesn’t want to risk accidentally finding out.

(A small part of Caleb longs for the days when he was able to afford nice conditioners instead of the shitty stuff that he used as part of his disguise in Asarius.)

When he reemerges from the bathroom, Essek is sitting at his desk and scrolling through something on his laptop. The lamp closest to Caleb’s cot is on, presumably for his benefit.

Caleb tucks his dirty clothes back into his bag and takes a seat on his bed next to Frumpkin. It occurs to him that Essek had changed the cot’s sheets while he was in the shower. Instead of rough-looking white sheets, the cot is now outfitted with the same sleek gray sheets and blanket as Essek’s own bed.

“Thank you for getting the sheets,” Caleb says as he runs his hand over the pillowcase. It’s soft-- silk, perhaps?

Essek glances over at him. His laptop illuminates his face with a whitish blue glow, making him look almost otherworldly. “Of course.”

He closes his laptop and stands up, heading over to his closet. Caleb pulls his hair into a braid as Essek grabs pajamas and retreats into the bathroom.

Frumpkin curls up next to Caleb’s pillow, purring. With a sigh, Caleb scratches behind Frumpkin’s ears. “Today has been interesting, Frumpkin,” he murmurs to his cat. “I’m starting to think that this is the beginning of a trend.”

The shower starts right as Caleb reaches over to turn off the lamp. Moonlight streams in through the window. Without moving his head from the pillow, he can see stars peeking through the window.

“Good night, Frumpkin,” Caleb whispers.

They are both asleep by the time that the water stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to everyone who asked me who Caleb's co-pilot will be. Listen, I'm a sucker for tropes-- I had to make Essek be his co-pilot. Also, they're definitely on the same wavelength and would work well together as co-pilots. I guess it was meant to be!
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading! Comments fuel me and warm my heart.
> 
> Shoutout to my beta reader, who is a very patient and helpful editor. They are also the physical embodiment of chaos. We are two bros sitting in a hot tub.
> 
> Feel free to swing by my writing blog [@distracted-dragon-age](https://distracted-dragon-age.tumblr.com/)! Check out my fic progress updates or just come say hi!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Penance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980955) by [rhealoveless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhealoveless/pseuds/rhealoveless)




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